


Aphelion

by Druddigonite



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Green has an inferiority complex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-27 16:35:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17165441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Druddigonite/pseuds/Druddigonite
Summary: The seasons change, and they do too.(AU where Green disappears onto the mountain)





	Aphelion

**Author's Note:**

> Because I've always thought it would be more reasonable for Green to be on the mountain rather than Red.
> 
> This was initially intended to be a short drabble. As you can see, it got wildly out of hand.

It was autumn in Kanto. 

There was a chill in the air, a northern draft that threaded through tree branches, whose canopies painted a kaleidoscope of fiery hues against the cloudy sky. The grass that blanketed the ground glittered with hoarfrost in the strained morning glow; as Red walked onwards, they crunched underneath his feet. He always liked to keep track of time through the ebb of the seasons. Days blurred together, months were hard to keep track of, but Red always found something new every season, every year. 

This autumn was slightly different from Pallet Town’s, whose autumns sang of earthy undertones, golden maples, and verdant green stretched across cloudless blue. That was the autumn Red saw when he first started his journey, when all he had carried with him were the clothes on his back and a yellow-green bulbasaur nestled in his arms. 

He had stepped onto Route 1 alone. The only thing that indicated the area had been a dingy sign, its paint worn down to where the words only read “ out 1”. There was once a dirt path, Red noticed, though it has long been overtaken by the undergrowth. 

Green was nowhere to be seen, but Red had recognized the size and pattern of the footprints on the trodden terrain, pictured the brown shock of hair and cocky-eyed smile of the person they belonged to. His rival had gone ahead without him. 

And Green was ahead of him now too, Red realized, as he stood in front of Victory Road with a full team strapped to his belt and Pikachu enthusiastically clambering over his head. Red couldn’t explain the feeling, but he knew Green like he knew the back of his own hand. His mom once joked that they were soulmates — in tune with each other’s emotions and whereabouts — back when he and Green were children and inseparable. Red knew from somewhere deep within him that Green was up there. 

Ahead. 

The caverns below the Indigo Plateau stank of mildew and stagnant water. With a subtle nudge of his shoulder, Pikachu illuminated the cave in a flash of light. Green was ahead, and this time, Green could do nothing but wait. And Red would catch up. 

When Green’s last pokemon fell with a dull thud, Red realized (too late) that he never wanted to surpass his best friend.

~

After the registration of his pokemon and several overwhelming press conferences, Red returned to Pallet Town when the first snows of winter fell.

Technically he hadn’t started his championship duties yet — still hadn’t finished his training — but Lance dismissed his concerns with a “Go see your family, I’ll take care of it” and there had been no further protests. Besides, he said, it would do Red good to take his mind off his new (and demanding) responsibilities for the holidays. 

Red’s spare set of clothes barely filled the large suitcase he was given. Neither did Pikachu, who had leaped inside and settled down with a squeak. He ended up tossing in a few hygiene products provided for by his hotel and left it at that, figuring that his mom might give him enough gifts on the return trip to fill it up. 

The first snowflakes began to fall when Red was halfway to Pallet Town. They drifted down in droves, silent, and his butterfree hummed in distress as snow accumulated on its wings. 

Red looked down. He was high above the ground, his feet dangling in the open air as his butterfree held him aloft with its legs. Below him were miles of barren woods. He located a clearing further away and directed Butterfree towards it, careful not to let its wings snag on jagged branches. 

He ended up just walking the rest of the way. Which was fine with Red (he had a map, and that was all he needed), though it gave his mother a heart attack when she found her son standing in what quickly became a flurry, shivering and decidedly suitcase-less. Red sat, wrapped up in blankets as rivulets of melted snow ran from his hair, listening to his mother chatter on about the New Year’s dinner she was hosting with Professor Oak and his family. 

Red could care less about New Year’s, honestly (without its man-made reputation, it was just another day in his life), but his mother seemed so excited that he agreed to help her. His house had changed now. His room was still the same, albeit coated with a thick layer of dust, and he was struck with heavy feeling of nostalgia. In all the other areas of the house, his mom have made good use with Red’s battling money: new chairs with no paint chips gathered around an unfamiliar table,, new plants were lined up on the windowsill, and a new flat screen TV was propped against the living room wall. In his absence, his mother had moved on.

He was happy for her. 

Red had just finished placing food on the table when the doorbell rang, and his mother let her guests in. Professor Oak came in holding a pot of something, while Daisy carried some presents. Red craned his head towards the door, peering outside, but there was no third person. 

The volume of the room increased tenfold as the Oak family began to chat with his mom. Red had busied himself with setting the presents on the couch when a strong hand clamped onto his shoulder, making him start. 

“Ah, did I scare you? My apologies.” Samuel Oak smiled, crow’s feet wrinkling at the corners of his eyes. His hair was whiter than when Red last law him, but other than that, he was the same Professor Oak he grew up with all his childhood. “Heard you became champion.”

Red raised his eyebrows, gesturing at his pokegear. Oak was one of the first people he texted after becoming champion. This shouldn’t have been news to him. 

“What, can’t you forgive an old man for wanting to congratulate you face to face? You’ve achieved the impossible, Red; I’m proud of you.”

Red nodded, swallowing his unsaid words of exactly _how_ he did. He reluctantly shook the professor’s hand, reveling at the formality of it all. No _I’m glad to have you back_ s or _We’ve missed you_ s, just a congratulations. As if his new title was all he had become in their eyes. 

Professor Oak grinned, his fingers gripping uncomfortably on Red’s arm as he guided the boy to the table. “Sit down, Daisy’ll take care of the food. You’ve done so much already: completing the Pokedex, clearing Team Rocket from this place, fighting your way to the championship. You deserve a little break.” 

The emerald eyes of a certain unruly youth flashed in Red’s mind, unbidden, his look shattered as he watched Red tear his dreams apart on the championship arena. Red nodded again. 

Dinner was a pleasant affair, all things considered. The Oaks had brought a miso soup, that paired nicely with the braised magikarp and bok choy his mother made. The gifts were actually all for him — “To make up for missing your birthday,” Daisy said, — and contained healing items and imported pokepuffs as well as some tacky costumes for his pokemon (he promised to try them on and send pictures). Red was trying to wrestle Pikachu into a stantler costume when he overheard a familiar name being passed around in the conversation around him. 

He jerked around so hard that he accidentally knocked into the table, sending plates clattering against each other. Luckily nothing was spilled. Pikachu huffed indignantly as it jumped off his lap, a crooked pair of antlers dangling haphazardly from its ears. 

Professor Oak looked surprised, but quickly regained his composition. “Ah yes, that reminds me. Red, have you by any chance seen Green in the last few months? He hasn’t been answering his calls.” 

Beside him, Daisy shifted uncomfortably and looked away.

Red shook his head, a sinking feeling in his stomach. 

The professor sighed. “Typical Green. Did you know that he never bothered to check on his family during his journey? Daisy always had to make a call for him to talk to us. Now he doesn’t bother to answer his phone at all.” 

Red didn’t bother to mention that he never visited his mom or called home either. 

Across the table, his mother let out a nervous laugh. “Come on, the food’s getting cold,” she said, standing up and raising her wine glass up high. “To a better new year!” 

Red was old enough to drink, but he had instead opted for a glass of pecha berry juice. His glass clinked softly against his mother’s, who filled in his toast for him. “To a happier life!” 

Daisy’s joined them. “To a more prosperous Kanto, free of Team Rocket!” 

Professor Oak stood. “To Red, the grandson I never had.” 

Red looked towards the window. Outside, the snow was still falling, blanketing the world in a sea of white. 

He drank; the juice ran bitter down his throat.

~

When the smell of spring pollen began to permeate the air, Red returned to his new house on the Indigo Plateau.

He had fully acclimated to the job of a Champion now, and was supposed to remain in the capital to keep an eye on the bureaucracy. Truthfully, Red had to do very little; after the downfall of Team Rocket ( _don’t think about it don’t think about it_ ), the region settled into an era of peace. Lance still dealt with most of the paperwork, and the Elite Four took care of all potential challengers. 

This surprised Red, who had swept through them on his first try with little difficulty. Apparently, having a trainer defeat all four Elites was rare. Having two accomplish it, back to back, was nearly unheard of. 

Since there was nothing keeping him in his house except some (rarely needed) obligations, Red left. 

It was something that came from his trainer mentality. He preferred to travel, train, and sleep surrounded by the wilderness he had grown to love, rather than suffocate in a too-small room whose plaster walls reminded him of nothing but his limitations. Outside, he could relax in the clovers on Route 15 under the shade on Venusaur, breathing in the heady scent of its flower. Stroll silently through the moss-covered marshes of southern Celadon, Pikachu perched on his shoulder. Fall asleep on the back of Lapras just off the Seafoam Islands, on nights when the stars in the sky bled black onto the tides gently lapping at his feet. 

The chirps of crickets sang in Red’s ears as he rattled the knob of his front door. The hinge was stuck tight but he eventually managed to get it to open, rust cracking under his grip. His house was quiet — too quiet — as he walked the empty halls. 

He parked his new suitcase against the foot of his bed. There was a dresser pressed against the right side of the bed, whose contents Red knew were empty. Just a piece of furniture that gave the illusion of an occupant.

His mom generously gifted him a pokemon bed for the holidays, which he set on the dresser. It’s made of ultra-conductive mareep fleece, large enough for Pikachu to stretch out in and insulating enough to absorb his twitchy little dream-shocks. Pikachu dream-shocked quite a lot, especially now that he lacked an outlet for of his electricity in the form of training — a byproduct of Red’s sedentary winter. 

He let Pikachu out, and the little rodent sniffed curiously at the outer rim before jumping inside. However, Pikachu didn’t stretch out across the bed like it usually did with all its over sleeping spots. Instead, it pressed its body against one side of the bed, leaving other half empty. The mouse flattened its ears against its head and whined, long and pitiful. 

Red forwent a shower and a change of clothes to collapse directly on his bed. After falling asleep in cramped spaces as a trainer, the size of his mattress felt too big, too open. There were two pillows on the bed; Red ended up using only one. 

He fell asleep with a cold draft to his back.

~

Summer’s frequent rains returned with their humidity and hazy warmth, and Red paid a visit to Viridian City.

The season had treated Viridian well. Its forests sported the vibrant hue of their namesake, and the sound of evening cicadas thrummed through its plazas. There was a small sunshower going on; each raindrop glinted as they were caught in the rays of morning light. Red raised his hand and felt the drops land on his palm. 

A few children were chasing each other on the streets, oblivious to the drizzle and their soaked clothes. They didn’t pay Red any mind, which was fine. He had decided to wear something different from his usual attire and return pikachu to its ball (something the mouse was not fond of), hoping that nobody would look twice at a black-haired teenager in a plain shirt and trousers. 

And it worked. 

He meandered through the city streets, noticing how some of the adults were also coming out of their houses to admire the weather. It was such a far cry from the Viridian he remembered, the one under Giovanni’s rule. The place had virtually been in a lockdown when he had arrived to defeat Giovanni. Now with Team Rocket disbanded, Viridian City seemed to be finally getting back on its feet. 

The place still didn’t have a new gym leader, however. Red had heard Lance mention picking one a couple times, but, as far as he knew, the dragon-type master never did. 

Until then the city was vulnerable, unstable. The gym sat unused in the center of the plaza, weeds and mosses staking their claim on crumbling mortar walls. Red took a peek past the sliding glass doors to see the inside, completely cleared. There was no indication of the weird tiles Giovanni liked to toy with back when he was gym leader. 

Red was suddenly struck with the idea of Green standing in the middle of it all, face cocked in a smirk and hands hooked on his pants pockets in a way that made him appear cool, collected. Green would be _perfect_ for this position, he realized. He had always loved the attention and responsibility that came with holding a public position. Back in school, Green often vied for class leadership when Red preferred to just sink into the masses. 

And he would be a damn good gym leader. Green liked to be meticulously organized and in control; he was level-headed and competent. Red knew this, knew it like he knew the back of his own hand. 

He remembered how Green supported him the day his father left. They were only five back then, but Red vividly recalled the pressure of small hands on his back and arms around his shoulders, the tickle of Green’s hair on his face as the boy wiped Red’s tears with his shirt — his favorite shirt, the one he refused to dirty — and hushed him while he cried. 

When they were older, Green taunted him for it, pushed him down stairs screaming that his father didn’t want him, chased after him jeering how he was weak for crying. It hurt, but Red never let Green’s words affect him, not when the boy’s warm embrace was how he got through that night.

Because after all the words and things they’ve said and done, Green was Red’s oldest friend, and he knew him like no one else did.

~

It was autumn again, and Red was called back to the Indigo Plateau to face a challenger. Said challenger arrived panting and out of breath, the yellow maple leaves tangled in his hair matching the amber smolder in his eyes.

“Everyone needs to stop putting their leagues on top of really tall places.” Gold huffed, then proceeded to wipe the floor with Red’s team, the first trainer to do so. 

Red wasn’t surprised by the sheer prowess Gold’s pokemon exhibited in the arena, nor the way he and his typlosion moved in perfect harmony. He’d heard of Gold; after Giovanni’s defeat, most of the Team Rocket members had fled to the neighboring Johto, where the boy and his friends finally collapsed their empire once and for all. 

What surprised him was how Gold declined the championship. 

He was already the Johto Champion, Gold sheepishly explained after Red withdrew Snorlax, and a dual championship would be a bit too much to handle. He also insisted that he shouldn’t be inducted into the Hall of Fame. “Just think of this as a battle between bros, kay? That’s all there is to it. Don’t want to steal the thunder out from under ya.” 

After he got clearance from Red to simply fly to the top of the Indigo League, Gold started showing up frequently. At first, it was just for rematches — or “friendly battles”, as Gold called them, — but his shouted commands slowly devolved into casual banter. Soon, the two had developed some sort of relationship with each other. 

It was a strange sight to behold, the Johto Champion carrying a mostly one-sided conversation with the silent Kanto Champion. Unfortunately, Gold was awful at charades, and Red had given up on dignifying his incessant chatter with a response after Gold misinterpreted a simple statement for the sixth time in a row. He supposed he couldn’t blame him. Gold was no Green; he didn’t have the eye for subtleties that let him to fully communicate with Red. Nor did anyone else, for that matter. 

Right now, Red was content to just listening to Gold talk. He’d never admit it, but it was nice to be around someone who didn’t look at him and see his achievements. 

Both avoided the subject of Team Rocket. 

One day while visiting Red, Gold brought up rumors of a mysterious man on a mountain. 

“I heard from the trainers — those who made it to the top — how strong he is. I mean, he has to be, to camp out at the summit of an Arceus-damned mountain. Isn’t Mount Silver one of Kanto’s most dangerous places? And those trainers were no wimps either, I’d know because I fought each and every one of them and they’re no blow-offs, so that guy must be insanely good.” Gold leaned on the balcony railings of the official Kanto League buiding, admiring the auburn forests below him.. Red had propped himself against the doorway, a cup of imported leichi tea cradled between is hands. The strange drink tasted sweet, but had a hot quality to it that staved off the autumn chill. It was barely half past six; already the sky had darkened to a deep navy and the first stars were starting to emerge. 

Red looked out over the horizon. From their vantage point on the Indigo League, Mt. Shirogane — Mount Silver — stood large and imposing, outlined in the fast-fading twilight. 

“I wonder what would it be like, to be on top of the world,” Gold said, his voice quieter now, “where you can look down and see everything beneath you. Wouldn’t it be lonely? You’re just...just standing there. You’ve got that you came for, and once you’ve climbed the highest you possibly can you realize that, through your success, you’ve isolated everyone else. You are on top of the world, and you’re alone.” 

He looked sad. A couple of uncomfortable minutes passed before Red realized their conversation about a certain rumor had transitioned into a personal allegory. 

After Gold left, Red contemplated what he said. His life was never the same after his father left. He had thought that after becoming a pokemon trainer, everything would be alright again. When he received Bulbasaur and still felt empty, that goal shifted to getting all eight badges, then challenging the Elite Four, then becoming the Champion, and being the most powerful trainer in the world (a position he had been recently dethroned from). But now that he was at the top of the world, Red still felt like there was something wrong, something missing.

The mountain was partially obscured by clouds year-round, but Red could imagine its peak jutting up, piercing the sky. 

“I’m lonely,” Red mumbled to himself. The mountain did not answer.

~

This year’s winter was much colder than normal, so when the Indigo Plateau got snowed in, Red decided to skip his Champion duties entirely.

The trainer felt a slow warmth pool in his stomach as he sipped his hot chocolate, Pikachu curled up in his lap and Venusaur dozing by his side. Outside, Lapras was diving into snow drifts, amusing itself quite well despite being the only one who actually liked cold weather. Ignoring the notifications on his Pokegear (probably from Lance, asking why he didn’t show up despite the fact that the Elite Four was used to their champion disappearing without notice), Red silently commended himself for his excellent decision. 

He never liked the cold. 

Red had finished with his hot chocolate and was petting Pikachu when it perked up, angling its little head towards his door. The mouse didn’t start sparking though, so Red didn’t bother to glance at the door. He had long accepted that his pokemon were keener than him in almost every way. If Pikachu didn’t deem something as a threat, then he shouldn’t waste energy worrying. 

Like clockwork, there was knocking on the door, a staccato sound of someone shivering uncontrollably. Red got up to open the door. 

Red expected Gold (he let the Johto Champion crash in his house sometimes), but instead was by someone with long, crimson hair. The person it belonged to was not dressed for the weather in the slightest, clutching his arms for warmth. His lips were tinged blue from the cold. 

“You’re R-red, right?” the stranger managed, trying — and failing — to keep the stutter out of his voice. “I wanted a b-battle and G-gold t-t-told me I c-could f-find you here. O-one of t-the Elites sh-should’ve messaged you about m-my arrival.” 

Ah, so that was the reason why his pokegear went crazy. Too bad he hadn’t bothered to check. 

The poor person was reaching seizure-like levels of shivering now, so Red took pity on him and stepped out of the doorway. He was once a traveling trainer too, and knew all too well the feeling of sleeping in the open, during wintertime. The person darted inside, and Red shut the door behind him. 

“Sorry for barging into your house like this,” he said a while later, warming his fingers on a mug of hot chocolate Red had given him. “I’m Silver, by the way. I’m sure Gold has mentioned me in passing.” 

Red cocked an eyebrow. If this was Silver, then “mentioned” would be a huge understatement. Gold talked his “best rival friend” _constantly_. Which was impressive, considering how Gold talked about food and pokemon and video games and everything in between. 

Silver seemed nothing like Gold. Now that the boy was warm, he had lapsed into a more reserved composition, his expression deadpan. He spoke with curt nods and short, concise sentences, nothing like the endless babble Red was accustomed to hearing. Flinty eyes stared at Red with an intensity that gave him an eerie sense of deja vu, and he was suddenly aware of the wave of nausea that was crawling up his chest-

“Wait!” Silver held up his hands as Red reached for Pikachu, hoping the mouse would provide some relief. “I’m not here to challenge you, I swear. I just want to thank you for...for what you did to Team Rocket.” 

The last two words caught Red’s attention, and he turned towards Silver, his hands fisting the hem of his jacket. Silver posture was taut, eyes guarded. 

Red had a feeling that he’d seen this body language before, only to realize that he had: right after Green lost the championship. 

“My father...was an evil man. He did a lot of things that I’m ashamed to even think about. It’s always been my mission to stop the organization that my old man shed blood and wasted lives to form; it’s mainly why I became a trainer in the first place. To stop him. And it should’ve been my duty to finish why my father started, but I was too…” He took a deep breath like it pained him. Shuddered. “...too weak. In the end, it was you who cut him down.”

It took Red a moment to deduce who Silver was talking about. The similarities were subtle, but the realization itself hit like a freight train. Giovanni, the trusted gym leader who played entire corporations like puppets on a string. Giovanni, the statue of a man whose smile bore no warmth as he pressed the cold, hard muzzle of a gun to Pikachu’s head, the rodent struggling against its earthen confines. Whose whispered threats were followed by the pull of the trigger, shots ringing long after Red woke up. 

And his _son_ was sitting in his living room. Red squeezed his eyes shut as hard as he could and fought the urge to clap his hands over his ears. Dimly, he could register the sound of Silver’s voice, still talking. 

“What I’m saying is that you didn’t have to do all of that. You never grew up in a life of crime, and you don’t deserve to suffer through whatever Giovanni put you through. You were never obligated to take down a crime syndicate. That’s the job of the gym leaders, the Elite Four, the police. That’s my job.” 

“You did anyway, though. And to be honest, I’m very grateful you did. Both the Kanto and Johto governments were very corrupt — one more than the other — but both were aware of the crimes going on under their noses and didn’t lift a finger. But you...you not only recognized the problem but also took action to fix it. And because of you, the world’s a better place.” He laughed weakly. “I can say the same thing for Gold. Don’t tell him I ever said that, though.” 

Silver drank his hot chocolate. “So thank you, I guess.” 

Red released a breath that he didn’t know he’d been holding. He imagined Giovanni’s chiseled face on the stone busts that decorated the old Viridian, then saw the new city with its empty gym and happy inhabitants. If Silver was right, _he_ had caused this, because he recognized a problem and took action when no one else did-

Red blinked as several images flashed in his mind. Green eyes. Scruffy hair. Smug smile.

Oh. 

_Oh_

_How did he not think of this earlier-_

The _clink_ of ceramic on tabletop startled him out his reverie. Silver had stood up, and was now making his way toward the door. Red watched as the boy swung it open. 

“No.” 

Silver froze. Turned around. He was letting all the cold air in, but that was okay; if Red was set on doing what he wanted to do, he might as well start getting used to lower temperatures. 

“Thank _you_.”

Silver seemed surprised to hear Red talk. The redhead gave him a smile, small but genuine, then disappeared into the snow.

~

It was supposed to be spring, but the slopes of Mount Silver gave no indication of that fact from where Red stood. Instead, they were simply different shades of grey against cold snow and stone. The pokemon here were as unforgiving as the place they live on; Pikachu just barely managed to fend them off.

So when the mouse leaped off his shoulder again, Red simply assumed that it was off to deal with another unseen enemy. He waited, his breaths billowing out in clouds as frost bit at his exposed cheeks, but heard no roar in the distance, saw no telltale sparks of lightning. Pikachu didn’t come back, so Red started moving again with what he hoped were proper steps. The howling winds reached a crescendo as he neared the mountain’s peak. 

There was a cavern, hidden away from most of the bad weather. Dimly, Red registered a red spot winking in and out. Was that…? 

He rubbed his eyes. The red spot seemed like it was flickering, moving to and fro in the darkness. Red stumbled, and by some miracle managed not the fall off the side of some cliff as he scrambled up the last few meters on his hands and knees. He collapsed face-first into the snow, too tired to get up. 

Something nudged his neck, smooth and firm and warmer than anything had the right to be. Red lifted his head to see the long snout of a charizard nosing him. It growled deep and leaned into his hand when he scratched the loose skin on its neck. The giant lizard seemed fairly healthy despite the environment it was in, suggesting it was a trainer’s pokemon. Tamed charizards were rare even in their native Kanto region, requiring a strong bond between them and their trainers in order to fully mature. This charizard in particular acted like Red was a long-time friend, licking his face in a gesture of affection unlike most of its species. 

The answer to all of it came from a voice deeper inside the cave, strange and familiar in a way that sent a twinge of something in Red’s chest. “Char, there’s a strange pikachu in the cave and I need you to shoo it out. You know how much I hate those nasty rats with a-” The voice stopped abruptly, along with the approaching footsteps. 

Red raised his head. Above him stood a trainer with a shock of brown hair, hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets. He was taller, his chest had filled out more, and his face carried a shocked expression in lieu of a confident smirk, but to Red he was definitely, unrefutably, undoubtedly _Green_. 

Red’s cold-addled brain compelled him to say something. “Hey Green.” 

Green’s eyes were wider than they had any right to be, causing Red to feel self-conscious about being the one to initiate a greeting. He was about to say something even more stupid (probably ‘long time no see’) when a sneeze racked his body. After that, he started coughing. 

All of a sudden there were arms around his torso, roughly hauling him into the cave. Red’s cheeks grew warm and he tried to struggle out of his rival’s grip, but couldn’t feel his hands and feet. There was what looked like a camp up ahead, with supplies sprawled out across the floor. Green threw him onto the ground there with more force than necessary. 

“Why the hell are you here?” Green hissed when Red started to regain his bearings, shuffling slowly toward a bonfire in the center of the campsite. Pikachu (that traitor) was cuddling with Green’s eevee in the corner. 

_To check on a friend?”_ Red thought, but instead what came out was a petulant: “Because I wanted to.” 

“Because you wanted to freeze your balls off? Honestly Red, becoming Champion doesn’t make you invincible.” 

There was way too much venom in Green’s words; Red inwardly flinched at the way ‘Champion’ came out. “But you’re here.” 

“I have both Charizard and Arcanine with me! Half of your pokemon are weak to ice, and the rest aren’t exactly mountain climbing material. Unless you got rid of that mange-infested rodent of yours, which, judging by what barged into my living area earlier, you didn’t.” 

That was true, Red conceded. He glanced up to where smoke was dissipating on the ceiling. “Come down from here, Green.” 

Silence. Red watched the shapes in the fire flicker as the shadowy form beside him stood stock-still. It would still be spring beneath the mountain, when budding grasses peeked out from the lingering frost, when migratory taillow and spearow return to the treetops. But high atop the peak of Mount Silver, the weather was in a limbo of perpetual grey. 

Finally, Green shifted. “I can’t,” he said, quiet. 

“Why not?” 

“What do you mean ‘why not?’ I-” Green snapped his mouth shut, teeth gritted as if it took a lot of physical effort to stop himself from saying anything. Red watched him seeth, watched his hands clench and unclench, knuckles white. He’d noticed that Green was always easy to rile up, ever since they were children, and the best way to deal with his mood shifts was to wait until they blew over. Nearer to the entrance, Charizard let out a worried huff. 

Green glanced at his starter, and his face shifted until it was as blank and emotionless as the mountain cliffs he hid in. Suddenly, Red couldn’t make a read on his best friend of a lifetime.

It scared him. 

“You should get back before night falls,” Green said, and before Red could raise an eyebrow because _that was the most blatant change of subject he’s ever heard_ he felt hands on his back, pushing him toward the mouth of the cavern. The wind had lessened, but the air was still as cold as ever. “Believe me, the weather right now is the best you’re gonna get. I’ll even lend you Charizard for the ride down.” 

“W-wait!” Red yelped, pushing back. He ended up slipping on a patch of ice and tripping over Green, who landed on the ground with a loud “oof!” as Red sprawled on top of him. For a split second Red’s world narrowed down to the body below him, the rise and fall of Green’s chest as he struggled to regain his bearings. 

The moment ended when Green pushed up with a heave that sent Red tumbling off him. In the dim lighting cast by Charizard’s flame, Green’s normally pale complexion had morphed into an interesting shade of carmine. Red rubbed his smarting shoulder. The thing would be sore for days. 

“I just got here, you can’t get rid of me that fast.” He scooted towards Green again, holding his hands out in what he hoped was a placating gesture. It worked; Green was not relaxed by any means, but he had stopped looking like he was about to explode. Next, Red attempted a compromise. “I’ll leave in two days.” 

“One. Tomorrow.” 

Red opened his mouth to protest, but then Green frowned at him and he looked...he looked _exhausted_ beyond belief, so Red conceded. Green turned the other way until he couldn’t see his face anymore. 

“Good. I’ll take Charizard; you can have Arcanine. I want you out by morning.” 

Like Charizard, Arcanine was much more enthusiastic about seeing Red than Green was. After giving Red a thorough licking, the canine allowed him to snuggle up to its side. Its fur was soft and warm in a way that him very drowsy (the climb must’ve tired him more than he thought), and Red fought to keep his eyes open, seeing the blurry form of Green shuffling in his periphery before he drifted off to sleep. 

Red woke in the morning to a face full of brown and yellow fur. Eevee purred as Red placed it onto a dozing Arcanine’s head, while Pikachu accepted a head scratch before bounding up onto his shoulder. Charizard was nowhere to be seen. He looked around and saw only an empty campsite, the fire in the center reduced to a pile of ashes. 

Green had already left.

Despite the fact that Green constantly ditched him during their pokemon journeys, Red felt a pang of hurt. Now that he finally found him, Red wanted to do nothing but wait until Green came back. But he had promised Green he’d leave, and he would honor that promise. 

Red descended the slopes of the mountain, steps heavy.

~

Technically, Green never said Red couldn’t come back.

It was often said that bonded pokemon and trainers became in tune with each other’s thoughts and emotions, so much that a pokemon’s behavior revealed more about the trainer than the trainer themselves. Green seemed to push him away, but both Arcanine and Charizard welcomed Red like an old friend. 

Green always wore a look of stern disapproval on his face (the same one Professor Oak had when he was disappointed with something) when Red arrived before the mouth of his cave time and time again, but never tried to avoid or prevent his visits. 

Behind all his bravado, Green always spoke in subtleties: a curve of the mouth when Charmander mastered a new move, a tense of his shoulders in Lavender Town, the breathless passion in his voice when he challenged Red, the volume of his silence after every loss. It’s often in what he lacked that Green showed his true emotions, and through his lack of a reaction Red saw a grudging acceptance. 

His job as a Champion remained season after season. The tide of challengers would ebb and flow. Gold would come for “friendly battles”, and sometimes Silver too (although he could never beat Red, he always came fairly close). It was constant, it was grounding, it was limiting, it was isolating. 

Red made it part of his routine to visit Green on the days he had off, bringing supplies and other necessities up the mountain. Along with that, he would bring something from his travels: tamato berries picked during their peak ripeness on the summer solstice, acorns and pinecones amidst autumn grasses, yache blooms dusted with winter frost, a budding tree branch in the coming of spring. 

If Mount Silver didn’t have a lot of nature, he would bring the nature to it. 

At first, the mountain pokemon had been a huge problem. After a couple run-ins with Pikachu, however, they learned to stay clear of the trainer with the white and red cap. Sometimes he would arrive at the cave and Green wasn’t there; in those cases, he’d set up a campfire and waited for the trainer’s return. 

After an entire year of trekking up and down the mountain, Red found out several things: 

1) He could use Snorlax to block the cave entrance during bad weather (at least, worse than usual weather). His pokemon didn’t mind — the big guy had enough blubber on its body that it wouldn’t feel a thing. When Snorlax was blocking the entrance, the howling of the wind would subside and he would be able to pretend that he was in Cerulean Cave or Mt. Moon, and they were only temporarily staying there. 

2) Red felt much more comfortable speaking when it was with Green. With others, his throat would close up if he were to say anything. But Green had seen him cry over falls when he was a toddler, almost swallow a poliwag for a dare as a child, stumble over simple pronunciations up until fifth grade. He had nothing to hide from Green, and so his words flowed out, unbidden. 

3) But that was even better than their conversations was when they had none. Most of the time Green didn’t bother to speak and Red wasn’t exactly talkative, so they simply sit there. There was always a companionable silence that fell between them, lingering with unspoken words, but unlike the imbalance he felt in conversations with Gold, Green’s silence never seemed awkward. He couldn’t figure out why. 

4) Green never asked to battle with Red. Red brought it up, once, but Green ignored him. 

“Come home,” Red said to Green every morning when he woke up. It was redundant and didn’t seem to be helping much, but he’s out of ideas and damn if he wasn’t persistent. 

Green would always refuse. 

“It’s...it’s better for everyone if I just stayed up here.” He told Red as the black-haired trainer packed his gear (not Green’s, never Green’s) for the journey down the mountain. He and Red were alone; their pokemon were further in the cave system, trying to spend more time with each other before they separated. Red didn’t understand why Green was doing this when their pokemon were clearly enjoying being together. 

Red looked up. The sun was just starting to rise, casting the mountain cliffs in a pinkish-yellow hue. Green was dappled orange in the morning light, which illuminating his haggard face. He looked so, so tired. 

On impulse, Red reached for Green with his hand, gently cupping the underside of his jaw. Green’s neck was warm, much warmer than Red’s fingers in the chill of Mount Silver. He let his palm press onto Green’s chin, while strands of Green’s hair tickled his fingertips. 

Green held still for a couple seconds before viciously pushing Red away. He landed hard on the snowy slopes outside, wincing when twin bolts of pain shot up his arms. Green always had a habit of roughhousing others (which turned into physical harassment in his teenage years, when he decided he would become a bully), but this time Red couldn’t blame Green for something that was entirely his own fault. 

“What the hell, Red?!” Green snapped, his hand holding the place where Red touched him. He started walking away. 

“Wait! It was an accident!” Red spluttered after his rival. The apology was too late, however — Green was gone.

~

“Hopefully you don’t have any duties to attend to, Champ, because it looks like we’re going to be here for a while.” Green nodded at his Charizard — like Red, he had long stopped giving out verbal commands — and watched as the orange lizard breathed a huge gout of flame at the snowed-in cave entrance. The snow melted under the heat, but was quickly replaced by more above it. “There’s enough snow above us that Charizard and Arcanine can blow all day without making a dent. The blizzard’s still going, too.”

Arcanine barked from behind them, Pikachu clinging to its unruly mane, and Charizard gave a low growl in return. The remnants of its Blast Burn were dribbling like molten magma from its maw. 

Red was leaning on the side of the cave wall, his arms crossed in what he hoped was a cool pose, but was really to stop himself from shivering. “What about Lapras-”

“Your overpowered dinosaur turtle will be fine,” Green dismissed, “It can’t find us, though; Lapras have poor eyesight and hearing. They have a great sense of smell, but that’s mostly in the water. So thanks a lot, Red, for leaving our only ice type outside in the snow.” 

Red ignored both the information brag and the jab. He’d had a lot of practice doing so. “If you don’t want me here, then tell your Alakazam to teleport me down.” 

The last time he checked — for research purposes, he swore — Alakazam wasn’t in Green’s PC. Since he started visiting Green regularly, Red had yet to see the powerful psychic outside of his pokeball. He chalked it up to the species’ dislike of harsh weather. 

There was a pregnant pause when Green didn’t respond immediately. Red slid down the wall until he was sitting, hugging his knees to his chest. Under normal circumstances, he would’ve loved to hang out with his rival, but there had been too many unspoken things between them lately. Green had never brought up the...incident when Red returned the next day, and he was too embarrassed to do it himself. Red had also stopped telling Green to come home, though the question still hung heavy over their heads. 

“Alakazam’s not here.” 

Red looked up. Green was slumped on the other side, mirroring his posture. “What?” 

“It’s probably off in some forest meditating or...something. Alakazam…” At this Green groaned, rubbing his temple. His next words were in a whisper, reluctant. “...Alakazam thinks what I’m doing is stupid.” 

Red remembered how haughty Green’s Alakazam was. How, as an Abra, the thing refused to eat standard pokefood and constantly looked down on bulbasaur. Apparently Green wasn’t immune to his own pokemon’s attitude problems either. 

He snorted quietly. This turned into full-out snickering when he noticed Green’s scandalized expression. 

“Sorry, sorry,” he managed between bouts of laughter. Red knew he should appreciate Green for telling him this, but wow was that a funny mental image, Green’s own pokemon rejecting his plans. “I see you still haven’t managed to get rid of its superiority complex yet.” 

Green looked insulted at first, then he slowly began to chuckle. “That pokemon’s the biggest egomaniac I’ve ever seen. Nothing will change that.” 

“Bigger than you?” Red teased. Green actually laughed out loud this time, his voice echoing pleasantly off the cavern walls. 

“Yup. It’s surprising, I know,” he said. 

The two sank into a calming silence. Red listened to his breathing, to each inhale and exhale. Pikachu was somewhere further down the save, its small paw-patters punctuated by the bigger trots of Green’s Arcanine. He imagined Green’s laughter mingled with everything, and he no longer felt cold. 

“Let’s battle.”

Red blinked at Green, who had his hands hooked on his belt of pokeballs. The cavern was a bit small for a battling site, but what wasn’t Red’s main concern. “Um.” 

“Three on three, no potions or other healing items,” Green caught Red’s look of uncertainty and smirked, eyes glittering with a challenge. “What’s wrong, Champ? Afraid I’ll whoop your ass?”

Red couldn’t help but grin. Green had been way too uptight recently; his change in demeanor back to the cocky, surefooted boy reminded Red of the good old days when they were just two kids, racing to collect all the badges. “I won’t hold back on you,” he said, releasing his butterfree. 

“Likewise.” Green shot back. He threw his pokeball just as Butterfree lifted off in a flutter of wings. 

Since Green already knew that Red was leading with Butterfree, he had the type advantage. Aerodactyl emerged in a burst of light, sending up a plume of cave dust as it landed. The cavern was too low for it to do any real flying, so the rugged reptile instead crouched low to the ground. 

Red tipped his hat, and Butterfree sped off in a blur of blue. Aerodactyl may have had the type advantage, but Butterfree’s size would give it the upper hand in close quarters like this one. The bug circled the walls while a concentrated ball of green energy formed near its mandibles. 

Green, however, seemed unperturbed. He stomped his foot and Aerodactyl released an Aerial Ace. The move wasn’t very powerful, but what it lacked in damage it made up in coverage. A gust of energy coursed through their battlefield, barely missing both trainers. Butterfree was unable to evade and, as a result, was sent flying into a wall, its Energy Ball fizzling out. Aerodactyl maneuvered around the cavern with surprising dexterity for the bulky pokemon; Butterfree barely managed to dodge a Rock Slide that would’ve definitely taken it out. 

Red ground his teeth together. He’d forgotten that Green knew these caves better than he did; of _course_ he would’ve found a strategy to counter the lack of space. Suddenly Red was at a disadvantage because his butterfree had nowhere to hidr. 

They traded blows back and forth. Butterfree actually managed to stun Aerodactyl with its spores before being taken down by a surprisingly well-placed Stone Edge. As Red withdrew the bug, he noticed that the reptile was not far from fainting, either; Butterfree had managed to land a few Bug Buzzes while Aerodactyl was paralyzed. 

He debated who he would send out next. His starter was his first choice since it could take a hit and strike back hard, though that would be an obvious choice. He could also send out Snorlax, who would be disadvantaged in the limited space but was unexpected to most trainers. 

However, Green was not like most trainers. They had battled together too many times to count, and Green knew Red’s team and strategies like his own. A diversion would never work on him. 

“Stop daydreaming and choose a pokemon, Red,” Green drawled. He had his hands on his hips and was tapping his foot. “We don’t have all day.” 

Technically the snow-in meant they did have all day, but Red didn’t feel the need to remind him. He tossed out his second pokeball the moment Green withdrew Aerodactyl and released his machamp. 

Green’s self-assured expression broke into one of surprise when Venusaur materialized, its flower letting off a subtle fragrance. Once the green pokemon adjusted to its cavern surroundings, it immediately snared Machamp with its vines. Machamp howled as it delivered attack after attack (“Aim for the head!” Green shouted) onto Venusaur until the grass starter bound its hands and legs together. Green withdrew Machamp before Venusaur could drain the fighter’s energy. 

“Machamp was tied up,” Green spoke when he caught Red’s puzzled stare. “There was no point in leaving it out to suffer.” 

Red chewed his lip and nodded. This was new. The Green he was used to always fought until the last breath, pushing his pokemon in battle until they fainted. It was nice, he decided, that Green stopped treating his pokemon that way. “Ready when you are.” 

Green’s last choice was expected, yet still gave Red a feeling of exhilaration. Eevee sat up and stretched, its little pink mouth wide open in a yawn. The brown fox’s lazy demeanor seemed unassuming, but Red knew its little body packed quite a punch. Pikachu slipped out from a tunnel onto the battlefield. 

If their first two battles showcased new strategies, this one was an old test of strength and stamina. Without either trainer’s commands, Pikachu and Eevee lunged at each other, and the fight quickly became just a blur as the two traded blows too quick to make out. 

The battle was silent except for the quiet sounds of a scuffle, but Red heard his blood roaring with his ears. It had been a long time since anyone besides Gold gave him a good battle. Unlike Gold, Red and Green had a long history together; he clearly remembered the day when Red caught Pikachu and Green hatched Eevee, how the two seemed joined at the hip the moment they met each other. 

Standing here, battling against Green, Red began to feel alive again. 

The battle was close — extremely close — but when the dust settled, a battered Pikachu remained standing over the collapsed form of Eevee. Green’s lips were tight when he petted Eevee, told it how great of a job it did, and withdrew the fox. Red walked up to him. 

“That was a really close battle. You almost beat me.” He said with a smile. Green didn’t reply as he rummaged through his bag for healing items. Aerodactyl was subsequently released and sprayed with a full restore. 

“I didn’t, though,” Green muttered bitterly, yanking the nozzle off a max potion with more force than necessary. Red felt a flare of irritation. He hated seeing his long-time rival acting like this.

“So what? So you coop yourself up on a mountain to cope?”

Apparently, that hit a little too close to home because suddenly the floodgates were open and Green was shouting at him. 

“You don’t know, okay? You don’t know. You’re the golden child, the hero who defeats an international crime syndicate with a dumb electric rat and becomes the Arceus-damned Champion of the region! You have no idea what it’s like to be second best to everything, to read and learn all you can on pokemon battling only to have your team beat by someone who didn’t even try, to-to be a disappointment to everyone! You have no idea what it’s like to stand on top of the mountain, lying over and over to yourself that you’re at the top of the world because it’s only in complete isolation that you can forget how shameful you are. Don’t tell me what I shouldn’t do!” 

“Green…” Red protested weakly. 

“After you beat me in the Indigo League, Gramps came and talked to me.” Green’s voice lowered until it was like a simmering flame, steady but no less dangerous. “He called me a disappointment. He said that since I didn’t treat my pokemon with trust and love, it was only a matter of time before I lost to you and I didn’t deserve to be Champion. Gramps is my grandfather, yet he loved you more than he loved his own grandson.” 

Green released Eevee from her pokeball, gently cradling her head so he could spray the medicine into her mouth. Eevee leaned into the contact, and Red noticed that Green’s fingers were trembling. 

Red’s mouth went dry. He wasn’t there when Professor Oak talked to Green, having left right after he finished his battle. The professor had been so warm and sincere in his congratulations to Red at the New Year’s party. To think that he would act so enthusiastic right after saying such vile things to his grandson...

“Professor Oak is wrong,” Red said fiercely, hoping that Green would hear the sincerity in his voice. “You’re bond with your pokemon is stronger than most trainers. You’re so much more…” _You’re so much more than just powerful. You’re sociable. You’re smart. You’re passionate. You’re more determined than anyone I’ve ever met. You’re brave in ways that I could never be._ “You’re so much more than just a title, Green.” _Rival. Accomplice. Partner._

Green laughed. It’s a broken timbre, monotone and mirthless with a slight hitch at the end. “He’s right though. I’ve been stuck on the mountain for years and you’re the only one who even bothers to see me. Nobody cares. Nobody misses me.” 

_Friend._

Before he even registered what he was doing, Red swept Green up in a hug. They were older now, and Green’s knees jammed into his stomach in an uncomfortable position, but he still wrapped his arms around his oldest friend’s shoulders, pressing him against his chest. Green’s hair tickled Red’s neck as he rested his cheek on his head. 

It surprised him to see Green so vulnerable; he had always seemed so sure of himself. However, the longer Red held him, the more he wondered why he didn’t see this coming. 

So he tightened his embrace, as if the act itself was compensation for not being at Green’s side earlier on, for leaving him behind. 

“ _I_ ’ve missed you.” 

No response followed, though Red knew Green was listening. It was something that he simply was aware of, because he and Green had been together too long not to. 

“Please come home.” 

They held each other for hours. And if Red’s shirt was a little bit wet after, he didn’t mention anything.  
~

It was autumn again in Kanto, and the leaves twirled lazily to blanket the roads in the warm hues of the harvest season. Red clasped Green’s callused hand in his own as they walked down the mountain together. 

For once, Green didn’t rush ahead. 

Fin.

 

Extras

~ Red’s starter is a bulbasaur. His full team is Venusaur, Pikachu, Butterfree, Lapras, Snorlax, and Nidoking. 

~ Green’s starter is a charmander. His team always has Eevee and Charizard, with Machamp, Alakazam, Exeggutor, Aerodactyl, Arcanine, Pidgeot, and Scizor in rotation. 

~ Red has a sweet tooth, which mostly manifests in his preference in berries. He’s very fond of pecha. Because of this, Green frequently uses them as apology gifts after fights.

~ Red’s stomach cannot handle alcohol. He’s tried it, once, as a dare from Green in the Game Corner. He ended up regurgitating everything he ate for a solid 8 hours, even water. 

~ Daisy knows more about Green’s situation than she l lets on. She’s the one Green went to for comfort after being practically disowned by Oak, and she’s the only one Green confided his whereabouts to. He had explicitly told her not to tell anyone, but sometimes, she wishes she had the courage to tell Red; it would’ve helped Green so much in the long run.

~ Silver’s always been a strange mix of stoic and hot-headed, but recently he’s mellowed down a lot. It helps that Team Rocket is completely dismantled — without the main reason for much of his bitterness, he finds himself lacking fuel for his burning anger. Silver can hold a grudge and hold it well, but even he knows when to let go. 

~ Red doesn’t have a favorite season, nor a favorite color, nor a favorite anything, for that matter. He’s the kind of person who likes a lot of things in their different, incomparable ways. 

~Green’s favorite season is winter, just because the cold makes him feel numb. Recently, he’s started appreciating autumn more; the leaves remind him of someone else’s eyes. 

~ When it comes to outward and inward personalities, Red and Green are their own polar opposites. Red is reclusive, but incredibly honest whenever he does decide to speak his mind. He trusts implicitly; it’s why his encounters with Team Rocket hurt him so much.  
Green adores attention — craves it, even — and has molded his behavior, all pomp and panache, to get this. It’s a lot of hard work and it leaves him so tired, but he’s learned early on to hide his insecurities in layers upon layers of smoke and mirrors. In a way, it’s actually much, much easier for Red to speak than it is for Green open up.


End file.
